Tell Me
by elhilxc
Summary: She's an aspiring artist in the midst of a transition. He's a sensitive photographer who loves too much. They feel an unparalleled passion, but as their differences threaten to drive them apart, she must decide if her past has a place in their future.


Chapter 11

Bella came home to find Jake sprawled across the bed, his soft snores drifting through the otherwise silent apartment. Their bedroom contained the aftermath of a romantic evening: wilted flower petals scattered across the floor, candle stubs sitting in hardened pools of wax. She knew him well enough to recognize the scene for what it was; an apology, as if his earlier outburst could be countered by this contrived decoration. The idea infuriated her. Their relationship wasn't a series of debts, trading kindness for cruelty until they both came out even.

As she walked around the room, she blew the small fires clinging their wicks, their flames too small to flicker, and ended her journey at the side of the bed. Jake rolled onto his side with his eyes still closed, as if he had sensed her presence in his slumber. She used to enjoy watching him sleep; the way his muscles would shift and roll in response to some imagined stimulus, the soft expressions that passed over his face. In the morning, she would ask for his dreams and match his movements to the chaos in his head, but it was the mystery of his nighttime stirring that filled her with tenderness. As she looked at him now, twisted in his unconscious state, all she could think of was violence. She shook him roughly, hoping his plunge into consciousness would be abrupt and jarring. Instead, he stretched languidly as a lazy smile spread across his face.

"Hey, babe. What time is it?"

She crossed her arms. "Midnight," she said coldly.

He narrowed his eyes, confused. "What are you…"

Bella watched as understanding dawned on him, his expression shifting from confusion to guilt. He sat up quickly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and placing his feet on the floor.

"I'm glad you're home," he said softly.

"Is that all you have to say to me?"

"Of course not. I…" He rested his hands on his knees and let his head hang between his shoulder blades, the perfect picture of defeat. "Baby, I'm so, so sorry."

"For what, exactly?"

He looked up at her, his face a mess of sorrow and guilt. "I never should have yelled at you. Not that it's any excuse, but work has been really stressful lately, especially with them dumping all those extra shifts on me and I-I took it out on you."

Her lips parted as she prepared to voice her indignation, but he held up his hand, begging her to let him continue.

"I know it was completely disrespectful and totally out of line and I'm so sorry for that. I promise, on my life, I will never do that to you again."

"What else?"

He looked up, confused. "What?"

"What else are you sorry for?"

"I…um…"

He licked his lips, pink tongue gliding over cracked skin. She wanted to rip it out of his mouth. Her anger was building with every word he spoke, every excuse he used to justify the inexcusable. And yet, outwardly she was calm, steady. She counted it at as triumph.

"What did you say to me before I left?" she asked.

"I was rude. I yelled. I-"

"But what did you say?"

He looked lost, helpless, weak. "Please don't make me repeat it."

She wanted to slap him, pictured it even: the satisfying crack of skin on skin, the way his head would jerk to the side, his hair hanging limply in his face as it partially obscured a scarlet hand print. Instead, she turned away, unwilling to let her impulses rule her.

"You don't have to," she spat. "I remember every word. You told me I was wasting my life, the same thing you've been telling me for months."

He tried to protest but she held up her hand, stopping him. "Maybe not in so many words, but we both know that's what you've meant. Do you know how much it hurts to hear that from someone who's supposed to love you? How much it makes me doubt myself? Why would you do that me? _Me_? We've always supported each other, promised even. So why won't you back me on this? Why?"

"I'm losing you," he whispered, his voice broken and raw.

Her anger fled her body, leaving her cold and hollow. Any other answer would have only fueled her fury, but she was too familiar with the fear of being left behind. She knew how fear became anger, how the desire to smother warred with the need to abandon, how the anticipation of loss could be worse than the loss itself. And while it didn't excuse his actions, she couldn't pretend she didn't understand them

And yet, she refused to deny his assertion, to placate him with a lie. She was still too upset to comfort him. "Only because you're pushing me away."

"I don't know how to be around you anymore," he whispered. "You're changing and I-I can't keep up. I want my Bella back, the girl who can tell whether a book is worth reading by the way the pages smell, who reads the ingredients on packages and draws the figures when I can't even pronounce the words. I knew everything about her. She has a birthmark on her left butt cheek; she loves the sound of rain but hates the wet; she thinks that changing your name is only okay of you're a stripper or a spy. But you, you're so different. You call out names of obscure artists like they're baseball teams. You point out 'elegant curves' and 'interesting arches' and all I see are random shapes. I don't know you, and sometimes I feel like you don't want to know me. I just want to get back to how we were before all of this started, when we were happy."

She sat on the bed beside him and pushed her hair behind her ear. He was right; they'd been happy once. If she closed her eyes, she could still see it - a tiny town under a near-constant cover of clouds, a gray ocean smashing against a sheer cliff face, a bonfire on the beach casting flickering shadows across the sand.

Bella had sat on a log with a red, plastic cup in hand, typical behavior for a first beach party. She'd been away at college for almost a year now and coming back felt strange, like walking into a familiar room after someone had rearranged the furniture. Leah sat beside her, seconds away from puking as she tried to avoid looking at her ex-fiancé and her cousin stealing brief kisses on the other side of the fire. Paul, big and burly, stood with his arm draped across the shoulders of a boy she didn't recognize, speaking to a disinterested group as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. Bella turned away and stood, ready to leave. Paul would pass out any minute now, and she didn't want to be around when everyone realized the most convenient way to get him home would be to dump him in the trunk of her truck.

"You leaving?"

Bella turned and found Leah looking up at her, her face wan in the moonlight. She nodded. "You need a ride?"

Leah smiled gratefully and staggered onto her feet. Sober, Leah spit fire at every turn, her recent break up and subsequent isolation steeping her in bitterness. But drunk, she was as sweet as honey. Bella decided she wouldn't even mind too much if Leah messed up her upholstery. Bella wrapped an arm around the girl's waist and together they stumbled to her truck. She carefully lowered her into the front seat and was just about climb into the driver's side when a voice stopped her.

"Hey! Wait!"

She caught sight of Jake running toward her across the sand, his arms and chest bare, waving frantically as he tried to get her attention. The months she'd been gone had changed him more than she could have imagined. The boy she'd left had been gangly and a little too thin, his cheeks still round from the baby fat he had yet to loose. But she'd come back to a man, all rippling muscles and golden skin on a body that towered above her. Seeing so much of him exposed made her uncomfortable, a kind of tingling, heart-stopping discomfort she was afraid to name, terrified she would have to call it desire.

He leaned against the side of her truck, nonchalant even as his chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. "No goodbye, huh?"

She shrugged, pretending to search through her keys as she tried to avoid looking at him. She'd been doing that a lot this evening. "You were busy."

He'd spent most of the night flirting with girls from the rez, glancing her way periodically and flashing an apologetic smile, the same one he wore now. "I couldn't get away," he said.

"Oh poor baby. It must be so hard being a stud." She reached up and patted his cheek, feigning sympathy. His skin was soft against her palm and she let her hand linger, savoring the feel of him.

His smile turned bright and boyish, and he was transformed into the kid she'd always known. "You think I'm a stud?" he asked, a note of wonder in his voice.

She pulled her hand away from his cheek and blushed. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," he said, sly and mischievous. "You think I'm hot."

She looked up, indignant. "No, I don't!"

He took a step closer and ran a hand down her arm, his light touch raising goosebumps on her skin. Her breath caught in her chest. "Not even a little?" he teased.

Her gaze traveled down his body, past broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and the subtle "V" that disappeared into the khaki shorts slung low on his hips..Her gaze returned to his face and lingered on his lips, before shooting to his piercing, brown eyes. She founded herself walking toward him, even as she shook her head, "no."

"I think you do," he whispered. He leaned into her slowly, giving her time to pull away if she chose. Instead she pressed her lips to his, overwhelmed by his proximity, his smell, and the heat coming off of him in waves. Their kiss started soft and shy, but as her hands drifted up his back, his fingers wrapped around her waist. And when his tongue slipped inside her mouth, she writhed against him, pressing her hips against his own as she let out a quiet moan. That small sound broke the spell he'd woven with moonlight, bare skin, and whispered words, reminding her who she was kissing: the boy she loved, but never like that, the best friend she could easily lose if this went too far. She jerked away and pressed her hand over her mouth but couldn't bring herself to wipe the taste of him away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean - I… must've drank too much." But he hadn't tasted like alcohol, just honey and pine and a thousand other things she would have to forget.

She climbed into her seat and slammed her door. "No problem. It's fine. Just forget it." She jammed her key into the ignition and the truck roared to life.

"Bella, wait. I-"

"I'll see you…I'll just see you," she called out before tearing onto the road, leaving Jake standing in the lot, bewilderment stamped across his face.

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid," she shouted, hitting her steering wheel with every word.

"Not stupid," Leah said. She sounded ghostly against the wind whipping through her open window. Bella jumped. She'd forgotten all about her.

"Really?" Bella asked, a little pleading. She needed reassurance that she hadn't messed up the first and only consistent relationship in her life, even if the words came from someone who was too drunk to remember her own name.

Leah's head swung to the side, her eyes half closed as her arm flopped uselessly in an unidentifiable gesture. "He loves you."

"He told you that?"

Leah shook her head. "His eyes," she muttered, waving her hand half-heartedly in front of her face. "Same as Sam with Emily before…before…" She let out a belch and Bella swung the car onto the side of the road. She managed to yank Leah's door open just in time to watch the contents of her stomach splatter across her shoes.

"Gross," Bella said.

"Sorry," Leah whispered as her eyes drifted close.

Bella stripped off her sneakers and socks, threw them into the bed of her truck, and drove the rest of the way to Leah's house, barefoot. Her father answered the door and took Leah from Bella's arms with a resigned sigh. Bella wondered how many times he'd carried his daughter to bed in the past few months, her body reeking of alcohol and vomit.

"Thanks, Bella," he said. "Tell Charlie I said 'hi.'"

"No problem, Mr. Clearwater. Bye."

Bella threw a half-hearted wave over her shoulder as she walked to her car, already lost in her own world. Her journey home was filled with pounding music, but she couldn't drown out the thoughts screaming in her head. She wanted Jake desperately. She could still feel his fingers brushing against her skin, imagined what they would feel like darting across her breasts, sliding between her thighs, strong and rough and commanding. She wanted to lick the skin stretched across his chest and run her palm along the trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans. And yet, she couldn't reconcile her desires with the boy she'd always known, thin and reedy as he dove into a murky lake, whooping into the wind as they raced battered motorcycles down empty roads. And on top of everything was the three word refrain repeating in her mind – _Jake loves me_ – forcing her to decide if she felt the same. She loved him the way she'd always loved him, but now there was lust too, and she wondered if that was all love really was.

She pulled into her driveway and caught sight of Jake sitting on her porch.

"Fuck," she muttered as she climbed out of her truck, but as she nudged his shin with her toes, she smiled.

"What happened to your shoes?" Jake asked, concern in his voice.

"They're in the truck. Leah puked on them."

Jake's expression turned sympathetic. "I'm sorry, that sucks."

"Not your fault," she said with a shrug. She sat on the step beside him and rested her forearms on her knees, mirroring his position. "So I guess we're talking about this tonight, huh?" she asked.

"Not if you don't want to."

"But you're…" She let her voice trail off. She didn't know how to ask him what he was doing here without turning her question into an accusation, and she didn't want to put him on the defensive. She liked him open and trusting, qualities she'd never been able to master herself, fascinating in their unfamiliarity. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and felt his gaze slide over her skin.

"You looked upset," he said. "I thought you could use a friend."

She bumped his thigh with her knee. He'd told her exactly what she'd needed to hear, that even after everything, things could still be like they were before. "You're sweet."

She rested her head on his shoulder and he wrapped and arm around her. As they stared into the trees across from her house, she felt warm, comforted, safe…loved.

"So, did I miss anything good while I was at school?" she asked.

He told her about drunken dance fighting, pepper snorting contests and games of motorcycle chicken. She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks, until she had to hold her stomach to keep herself from falling apart. She used to be a part of their idiocy, a willing accomplice in plans that always seemed to border on illegality or outright danger. She missed that quick shot of adrenaline and the camaraderie that came with sharing a light brush with death. Listening to Jake allowed her to recapture some of both, reminding her of everything they'd shared. They had history together. She wasn't sure who else she could say that about.

Her friendships had always been cut short by her mother's restlessness. Eventually, she stopped trying to cultivate them, tired of carrying fond memories of people she would never see again. Friends became one more thing she would have to leave behind when she moved, an absence she felt like a phantom limb. Jake was the only one she'd been able to keep. Their bond was strong, formed before she'd learned how dangerous such attachments could be. Coming back to him was like coming home. But he was more than a warm smile and comforting hug. He was a reminder that there were people who loved her, her one hope that she wouldn't always have to be so alone.

When his stories ended and her laughter faded, she turned to him, pulling away so she could see him clearly. "Leah says you're in love with me," she blurted out and a fiery blush spread across her skin. She'd meant to introduce it with more tact, maybe embedded in banter so he could laugh it off if he chose. But when she'd looked at him, all she could think of was Leah's revelation, and she'd never been good at hiding her thoughts. She waited for his answer. He could still deny it, call Leah a liar and blame her trickery on her bitterness and anger.

"That's true…has been for while," he said.

She let out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding, unsure what emotion had been released. "What now?" she asked.

"I'm not sure that's really up to me. I already know where I stand; I want to be with you."

"It didn't feel that way tonight."

He flashed a guilty smile. "That was Paul's idea. He said if you saw me with someone else, you might realize you want me too. Pretty stupid, huh?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really do jealous, but I didn't like it."

"Really?" He looked so hopeful.

She nodded. "But I don't know what to do with that. I don't know how I feel, and even if I did feel the way you want me to, what if things don't work out? I've seen people try to go back to the whole friend thing and it takes years for them to even come close. I don't want to lose you for that long."

He laughed as if her fears were silly fancies and she felt her lips curve into a smile. Maybe he was right. "You couldn't lose me if you tried," he said. It felt like a promise.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I guess I can't really, but I feel like we could be really good together, like 'forever' good." He said it so casually, not like a line, but like something he believed in wholeheartedly, unquestioningly. She wanted to be that sure with him, about him.

She turned toward him and met his gaze, leaning closer until their lips touched. Her kiss was soft and hesitant, a declaration of her love and fear. His lips were firm against hers, countering her reluctance with a solidity that was far from a demand. Each brush of their mouths was a promise that he would be there, waiting until she was sure. And slowly, slowly, she began to believe him. He would always love her, and that love would make them perfect.

She pulled away, her heart fluttering. "Okay."

He looked at her in wonder and a dazzling smile lit up his face. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Let's try it."

He pulled her into a tight hug, his mouth meeting hers with force. She laughed against his intensity, the kiss he'd been holding back as he waited for her decision. She let her eyes fall closed, losing herself in his elation. Behind her eyelids was a vision of them: happy, in love, forever.

Three years later, it was an image she couldn't quite let go of. She longed for the naiveté that had defined her as she'd sat on her father's porch, kissing her best friend. Back then, everything had seemed possible, even something as fantastic as love. She wanted to kiss him now, just to see if she could recapture that feeling, but she knew that if she pressed her lips to his, she would only pull away in disappointment.

"What happened to us?" she asked.

Jake shook his head, as if his swinging tresses could swat away his confusion. He was just as lost as she was, unable to pinpoint where "us" had become "you" and "me" They'd both drawn lines they refused to cross, and now there was a chasm between them, filled with all the things they wouldn't give. "We were...we are great together," he said, but there was no conviction in his voice. His words were empty, like a prayer he had grown out of but still repeated, hoping to rediscover that first sense of wonder.

"How?" she asked, more curious than incredulous although the latter dominated her tone.

He stared at her blankly. "We just...are, aren't we?"

"Are we?" she asked, echoing his words, refusing to let her response steer his.

"We have to be. I moved out here to be with you; I gave up everything." He sounded more dazed than accusatory, but Bella winced anyway. He had left his family, his tribe, everything he had ever known to follow her across the country. She tried to push her guilt away, refusing to feel responsible for his decision, but it still gnawed at her. She had asked him not to come, convinced his sacrifice would only breed resentment. Instead, he had idealized their relationship to justify his loss, turning theirs into a rare, storybook love. He couldn't see that what they had was valuable, not because of what it was, but only because of what it had cost.

Desperation passed over Jake's features before fading into determination. "No. We're supposed to be together." He was calm, collected, as if his conviction was the most logical thing in the world. He couldn't see the cracks in their foundation. They had forced themselves together, like puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit, convinced that the struggle would enhance their love. And now he wondered why their relationship felt so disjointed.

Bella didn't have the heart tell him they might never work. He believed in them they way old women believed in god, powerfully, desperately. Breaking his faith might destroy him, and she still loved him too much to hurt him so profoundly, despite everything he had failed to be. Given time, he would stop idealizing their relationship and see it for what it was – broken. Maybe then they could decide if it was worth fixing or if it was better to cut their losses and move on.

She still didn't know where she stood. The truth was, she used to believe in them as strongly as Jake did. Her faith had never been as blind, but it had still been strong. And in a world so unstable, the memory of that certainty continued to haunt her. She couldn't pretend she felt nothing for him. Her anger tainted her emotions, creating frustration and impatience where there had once been tenderness and affection, but underneath all of that, there was love. She wasn't ready to sever her ties completely, and he wasn't ready to question what they had. They just needed time to figure out what they wanted from each other and for themselves. She could give them that. She would wait until they were both ready, and the would talk honestly, calmly, about where they stood.

Bella wrapped her hand around his arm, ivory against cedar, and he turned to face her. "Okay," she said.

Bella hadn't noticed the tension in Jake's features until it melted from his face. She realized he'd been stealing himself for an argument, prepared to defend his position with everything he had. He was ready to fight for them.

"Yeah?" he asked, breaking into a hopeful smile.

She nodded. "Yeah."

A/N: Hi guys. I've decided to put all the announcements and what-not at the end, just to switch things up. First in my heart, and therefore in the notes, is everyone who reads, alerts, favorites and reviews. Hearing what strikes you, negatively or positively, and knowing that you appreciate my work makes my day, and I while I may not always respond, I'm always listening (or reading, as the case may be). Secondly, I have to give it up for my Betas BonnySammy, and Addicted2Edward. They whip me into shape by refusing to let me slack off, and I am forever grateful. And of course, to SMeyer for letting me, and the rest of the fandom, reshape her ideas without suing the crap out us (Thanks!).

Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

elhilxc


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